The Angel's Letter
by SmurfsTasteGoodOnToast
Summary: A sarcastic young woman, her practically angelic lover, and a vengeful husband. Set against Puritan New England, a story about shame, redemption, and, of course, Supernatural. Scarlet Letter AU
1. Hell's Gate

The people were gathered around the place people look away from on any other day. One of the two places.

Both locations are rather common place, as every city must have them, and this town, like any other, walk past them mostly without a glance on days unlike this one. The first of these places being Heaven's Door cemetery where the Godly people of the Massachusetts colony are put to rest when their time comes. However, if that's where the people here would have been gathered, judging by their expressions it would almost be a happy occasion in comparison. But no, these people are gathered at the second location. The prison. Outside it to be exact.

The spectators looked upon the door, Hell's Gate as they called it, awaiting the reveal of the fresh scar on their Puritan society.

The odd thing about Hell's Gate was that instead of a grim reaper standing to the side of it like was pictured in their theology books, there was a blooming rose bush which seemed to grow of it's own accord. The thorny greenery of the thing wouldn't seem so out of place if it weren't for the fragrant flowers that perched atop it at random intervals.

Now, as our story begins at this guard's threshold it only seems right to present a blossom to the reader in hopes it will foreshadow an outcome as beautiful as summer's fresh bloom, but if it shall not than may it serve to relieve a small bit of of the sorrow that the reader would endure along with that whom steps forth.

**A/N: In my English class we are reading The Scarlet Letter and by chapter 4 the book is screaming MEGSTIEL at me, so that is the form with which this plot bunny has attacked me! Since I don't know how the story past chapter 4 goes in the actual book this may or may not stick close by it, but I'm going to try to balance the beautiful language of the novel, and actually being able to understand what I am writing in this fic. So I hope that you enjoy wherever this goes! **


	2. The Market Place

Unlike what we might assume now of women back then, these broads were not the kind genital and fair to stand behind the men in observation of the threshold which served as the gathering spot, though none stepped too close almost in fear if being dragged into it themselves. These women did, however, stand in front of the men in a tight group of gossip.

"I can't believe this hussy," a woman of fifty or so was spewing to the group, "She comes to this town of Godly people and does such a deed, and yet this is her punishment? What ye say, she should stand up before us five and we'll judge a more acceptable verdict than this!"

"Think of the Reverend!" another spoke, "I hear tell of how he takes it to heart that one of his congregation should fall such as this. I pity the poor man, to be honest."

"Pity him, yes. Especially since the punishment bestowed on the wench is so merciful," added a third. "If they were going to put an 'A' on her, they should at the very least brand it on her forehead. Stitching it into her dress! Why, she could cover it so easily. If they're going to let the world see, then let it see properly, less she walk the streets as bold as before!"

"Let her cover the mark," the only soft woman in the group interposed, "the mark isn't for us, as she will always know it's there wither fresh eyes see it for the first time or not. And even if they shan't, surely they will hear of it."

"What does it matter if the brand be on her forehead or dress?" cried another. "There is law both in the Scripture and in legislature calling for her death. If she's let off like this then let it be those who passed sentence's wifes or daughters whom go astray next!"

"Mercy!" finally exclaimed a man in the crowd. "Have you no virtue besides a fear of the gallows? Quiet gossips! Hell's Gate is opening, and here comes Mistress Masters herself."

Once open, the woman who looked out from behind the threshold did not have the air they expected of her. Her head was held high and her gaze was even. She didn't move to shield the letter adorning her dress, nor did her clutch on the child in her arms tighten out of nerves.

The town beadle who stood by her side with sword gripped in hand placed his other on her shoulder to force her forward. With an almost queen-like dignity she shrugged his hand away and stepped towards the throng of her own free will.

As she stood fully revealed before the crowd the forced piece of adornment on her dress held the attention of the town. Unlike the one woman had predicted, the scarlet 'A' wasn't hidden in the least. Instead it was embroidered almost as if to draw attention to it. The crude cut out of cloth was not lavish in any way, yet it was not hidden either, and if the woman would have been gifted in stitching, or rather had enjoyed it so she would have more skill, it would have been such. Instead this letter was sewn haphazardly with gold thread like a solders wound stitched quickly together in the heat of battle so he shan't bleed to death. The colouring seemed to make this picture even clearer in the minds of the spectators.

A badge of honor. The woman was wearing her shame like a badge of honor. That's what she wanted them to assume anyway.

The woman wasn't particularly tall, yet held an elegance that made her seem above them. Her hair was dark and abundant as it curled down just past her shoulders. Her face was regal as well as beautiful.

Those who had known her had expected her to be of dimmed fire, sounded by gloom. Instead there was something almost painful to an observer about how her thorny misfortune stood out almost like a halo; expressing the attitude of her spirit, recklessness of mood, and her wild personality.

"Make way!" the beadle proclaimed. "Ye shall have a good look soon enough. I promise, Mistress Masters shall be set in sight of man, woman, child, and God! Dragging her sin to the sunlight. Come along, Masters, show your scarlet letter in the market place!"

She was lead through the crowd through the path that opened up for her before it surged closed as if swallowing her whole. Lead through the town to the market place where the scaffold stood dustily against the usual life. Now the market was filled with solemn air as she stood alone on the pedestal of shame with her babe as her sentence decreed. Three hours and she would be free. Free to start the rest of her punishment with the eternal letter on her bosom.

The eyes of the crowd were not mocking as one would expect, instead they were judging. Staring into her. Showing their resentment that she could bring such sin into their presence.

Be that as it might, she saw none of it. Instead her mind tried to go to when it was as fresh as that of whom was in her arms. Obviously it could not go back that far, but it settled on when she was a young girl living in a house that had not known money practically since it was erected. The crumbling crest over the stone door as she played in the garden home to more weeds than flowers. The next door was that of a study. Large and adorned generously, the fireplace crackling away behind the man down on one knee. After came the church door. Then not so much a door, but the first step onto Massachusetts soil. She could still feel the clean air against her skin, except now it was much more biting.

She was pulled back to the platform from the breeze slapping against her cheek as if it were punishing her too. It seemed to Meg Masters that the entirety of the universe was punishing her as her eyes zeroed in on a particular stranger in the back of the crowd.

**A/N: Yeah, not the most exciting chapter, hopefully it wasn't too bad though! Thank you for reading and please review!**


	3. The Recognition

The stranger and Meg locked eyes. She took a deep breath, beginning to say something, but he cut her off by pressing one finger to his lips.

Instead, the stranger tapped the shoulder of a townsman. "Excuse me, good sir, but who is this woman put to shaming?"

"You must be a stranger," the man observed, "else you would have surely heard of Meg Masers and what evil she has done. Raised great scandal, I promise you, in Godly Master Novak's church."

"You are correct. I am but a stranger. Just arrived from where I was held captive. You see, the ship I came in was blown off course, only to run into a horrid storm not half a mile from the shore. The ship sunk and I alone made it. The natives saw this and took me prisoner, just now letting me from my captivity. Will it please you to tell me of Meg Masters'- did I get the name right?-offences to earn her a spot by the scaffold?"

"Ah yes, yonder woman, you must know, is the wife of an Englishman by birth, but who stayed in Amsterdam. Some time back he decided to come and throw his lot in with us in Massachusetts, and he sent his wife before him. About two years the woman has been here without word of her husband."

"I see," the stranger nodded. "Why does the father not stand beside her in her shame?"

"None know, for she won't tell his identity. 'tis a shame, I'd like to see him which tempted her take the shame he deserves. That's why her punishment's so light, it is. Surely a young woman so fair would have been greatly tempted by the gent."

"Wise sentence. However, I'd sure like to know the identity of the man as well."

On the platform the mind of the woman which they spoke of was racing. It was fear that gripped her heart now, not that she was one to admit it. Despite their piercing eyes Meg was glad for the crowd. Their gaze providing protection from the man so far, yet much too close for comfort.

"Meg Masters!" a voice from behind her boomed. Looking down on the spectacle from behind the platform was a balcony which held the most respected of the town. Her judges. The officials of the town who had shown her "mercy", yet there was not a group less capable of judging a woman to ever be found.

Governor Michael who stood proudly as ever upon the balcony was young, yet if one didn't see his face, his demeanor could easily have been believed for that of an old man. He possessed none of the impulses of youth, but instead was stern tempered and somber of nature. By his side was he whom possessed the voice which had broken her concentration on the stranger; the elder of the two clergymen, reverend Raphael. It was he who spoke next.

"I have requested of my young brother here that he be the one to entice a confession out of you, for he knows you better than I, thus knows what kind or harsher words would cause your stubborn silence to melt to the truth here before those of us on Earth, and before Heaven itself. You should no longer hide the name of him who shared your sin, but let him take his rightful place before your side in shame. Him who tempted you to this grievous fall. However, reverend Novak has refused my request," Raphael glanced to his other side where the younger reverend stood though his voice was still loud enough for all to hear, "What say you, once again, Brother Novak? Must it be you, or I, that deal with this sinner's soul?"

"She is of your congregation," Governor Michael spoke up, "her soul, as it should be and still now after staining, is rightfully your responsibility."

All eyes of the town that were not previously such turned their gaze to Castiel Novak. The pastor had come to them after years of study of theology at fine English universities, bringing all the learning of the Old World to the New. His knowledge and religious favor had already given him a high position of respect. His person was easy to look upon with interesting features, dark brown hair and brow, yet blue eyes bright as the sky. More often than not he could be found secluded away in his study pouring over books, yet came fourth when occasion.

At the current moment the trying nature of his position was driving the blood from his cheeks. He lowered his eyes for a moment in prayer before stepping forward to address the woman looking up at him from below, yet not as far below as the rest of the town.

"Meg Masters," he said to her, meeting her gaze, "You've heard the words these good men have spoken. Don't have mistaken pity for he who hath wronged you, and if you do let it be in the form of confession so his sin may be brought to light and his heart lightened from the burden. In order to make your own punishment more effectual towards salvation allow him to step down from his high place since he shan't do so without your assistance. Let him stand beside you to share your shame." Castiel Novak's vice was sweet, rich, deep, and broken. The crowd waited for the answer to spring forth to the lips of the woman, for whom could still refuse? Some even expected the man to step forward himself.

Instead, Meg simply shook her head.

"Woman, transgress not beyond the limits of Heaven's mercy!" exclaimed Reverend Raphael, more harshly than before. Speak out the name! That and thy repentance may avail to take the scarlet letter of your dress!"

Meg looked up at him with a smirk, "No. I will not speak." There was a hint of challenge in her words, an unspoken 'and you can't force me.'

Raphael and Michael looked livid, yet the younger reverend looked almost impressed. "Wondrous strength and generosity of a woman's heart! She will not speak!"

The elder clergyman pointed his gaze back over the crowd. Instead of continuing to fight a fruitless war he began preaching. Dwelling upon the symbol in such a way that made it seem to derive it's red hue from the very pits of Hell. On and on he went about the ignominious letter and the sin of which it represents.

Meg, meanwhile, kept her eyes trained over the crowd, unseeing, until it was over. She was lead back along the path, and through Hell's gate once more.

**A/N: I bet no one at all can guess who the dad is, right? Pft, of course not XD**

**Anyway, a HUGE thanks to my first two reviewers!:**

**Chinchikurin! (I shall keep writing, and I'm so glad you're excited for this :D You completely made my day!)**

**Guest (I love the book so far as well! A chapter ahead of where I should be for class XD)**

**So I hope everyone else who reads this despite the crumby summery (Any suggestions btw?) is enjoying it as well! And if you're getting bored I just want to casually point out that in the next chapter you get to see who the husband is *cough cough*. So anyway please review :)**


	4. The Interview

After her return to the prison Meg heard arguing between her jailer and an all too familiar voice. Then the owner of said voice sauntered his way into her cell as if he owned the world. It was that moment when she realized why Governor Michael had seemed so failure when she first met him.

"What do _you _want?" Meg glared at him.

Fergus casually sat in the one chair allotted to her cell. "I want to know how my wife ended up with that red letter on her chest," he informed her, using his walking stick to tap said letter.

"I know it's been a while for you, but shouldn't even you know the answer to that? I guess you really are as old and disgusting as I've always known," Meg gave an obviously false smile.

Fergus leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands on the end of the walking stick that wasn't touching the dirty cell floor. "If I'm so old and disgusting, as you say, then why, might I ask, did you ever marry me?"

"You may not remember how to make a girl's loins all dewy, but I know you remember that."

"Ah, yes. The money. Though, I pray you, did you ever wonder why I would marry the likes of _you_?" he raised his eyebrows in question.

"Because you're a sick, old man who can't get tail without buying it?" she asked with too much sweetness.

"I assume you're trying to insult me, but no. Not that I thought your pathetic mind could know. The reason was that I wanted to own you. Any man could go find an obedient little wife twice as fair as thou, but I wanted a challenge. To take a fire and put it out until you were my obedient little hand maid. Little bird repeating all the words I would tell you too-"

Meg cut him off with a snort. "You're just quite the romancer, aren't you?"

"Don't interrupt me, you strumpet!" Fergus snapped. "Now, as I was saying, I suppose this letter here is just as much my folly as yours. From the moment we came down the old church steps together, I might have beheld the bale-fire of that scarlet letter blazing at the end of our path. This is what I get for trying to ride an unbroken horse."

"If I've been such a horrible wife then go announce yourself. Go cast me off, for I have wronged thee," the last part the statement was uttered with as much sarcasm as the words could possibly hold.

"Of course not. I don't wish to deal with the shame that comes from a wondering woman. Instead I shall remain here, none knows me, and I can start a life without you. More like, actually, considering the last two years, continue it."

"Good. I don't wish to deal with the shame of the town knowing that my husband was an eel who's great length of dick landed in the personality rather than the physical form," Meg smirked.

"You will shut your mouth, you foolish woman. There is only one word you will utter to me for the rest of your sorry existence, and that is the name of the father of the babe. He hath wronged me and I shall not tolerate it."

"Do what you want with me, you've already established ownership, but I'll never let you near my angel," she stated defiantly."

"That was much more than one word, and yet the word I wanted was not in the bunch," he glowered.

"Go to hell," she smiled.

"Due to the fact that my marriage to you is through, I'm pretty sure I'm leaving it."

"Then take my worst regards. Take them and leave."

"It doesn't matter, you refusing to tell me. Doesn't matter one bit. I'll find that man, be sure of it."

"And then turn him into the town, or kill him?" Meg asked, "I can't tell what fits your petty personality better."

"Neither. I'll let him keep his high position, should he be a man of one, and I'll let him keep his pathetic life too. But I'll own him. Him and his guilty heart will be mine because I have his secret and his whore at my mercy. Good day, what's left of it, Mistress Masters." Fergus leaned his weight against the walking stick in order to stand, then took a step towards the door.

"Fergus," Meg stopped him. "How shall I know the talk is of you if your name is not true?"

"Crowley," he answered. "They'll call me Crowley."

**A/N: I said I wasn't sure how close this would stick to the book, and this is the first chapter that really hasn't. I thought this was more IC for Meg and Crowley as a married couple though! XD That just doesn't sound right. I hope you all like my choice of him for the husband though. So please tell me your thoughts on that and their attitudes towards each other! (IC? Didn't work at all? Somewhere in the middle?)**

**Thank you so much to all my reviewers! It's because of you guys that I can get inspiration to get chapters up so quickly! These amazing people are:**

**Guest (I am SO glad you were not disappointed, and I'm glad the description caught your interest because I'm very unsure of it, so that really helps me a lot :)**

**chinchikurin (I respect the self control XD I'm flattered that you're so invested in the story! Thank you so much!)**

**So that's it I think for this chapter, except the "please review" that seems to end all my A/N's! Please review!**


	5. Meg and her Thorn

Meg Masters' term of confinement was now at an end. The Hell's gate was thrown open and she came forth into the sunlight, which, to her sick and morbid heart, seemed to serve no other purpose than to light the scarlet letter on her dress. Despite what happened before, Meg knew her true punishment began whit her first step over this threshold. No longer would she be concealed in the walls of the prison, but out before the world to see. With the letter.

That, and every step hereafter, would draw eyes to the letter. The young would be taught to look to her - who had once been pure like them - now as a symbol of sin. A demon walking amongst the holy as a living example of the fallen.

It may seem strange that she would elect to remain in the place of her condemnation when she was held there by no Puritan law. She was free to return to her birthplace, or any other European land. Once she left there would be no one to say she couldn't remove the forsaken letter. No one with the knowledge that her child was illegitimate.

But she would not flee.

Meg Masters was far too proud. She would live her sentence in front of those who had damned her to it. And in front of Crowley. She wanted to be a daily reminder to him that he didn't own the world, and he didn't own her.

Instead, she made her way to her home on the outskirts of town. Not so far as to cause exclusion, yet not near any other dwelling. An instant mystic shadow of suspicion invaded where the home sat. The foliage around it wasn't so thick as to conceal, but more to suggest it was a place that should be. Lonely was her dwelling, yet should Meg have chosen to live in the center of the hustle and bustle of the town she would have been no less alone.  
With little means left hand her allowance from her "husband" having now mysteriously stopped, Meg was forced to find a way to support herself and her growing daughter. Although she had previously loathed the mundane task of needle work, she knew it would burn them all to wear a piece of her work. For while every woman and girl could sew, there were none in the colony who were particularly gifted. Meg spent days using her punishment to build skill with each red letter more elaborately embodied than the last. The next time she made her way into town she made certain to wear the most exquisite one, and they all stared, but she refused to let the heat of shame show; instead taking sick pride in the gawking.

Though the simplistic Puritan style made infrequent use of her new skill, the taste of the age called for it. She would toil away at deep ruffs and embodied gloves for the men of state. From the start of life to the end, baby linen, apparel for the dead in their coffin, and anything else for the time in between that was necessary, she would make.

I gave her satisfaction seeing those which cast her off as the scum of the earth wearing her designs. Almost as if she was sewing her letter into them. Touched by a sinner. Meg had been tempted more than once to sew a bright red letter onto other's garments, though not necessarily an 'A', but instead one to fit their sins.

Ever since the cursed thing had first been branded onto her breast an odd almost sixth sense had taken hold. It seemed as if she could see the sins of other's hearts written plainly on their faces. She could see liars, cheaters, even another adulteress and her lover. Apparently Ruby and Sam were just more careful than she had been.

Meg felt the bitterness creeping up in her heart. Why could these people live in such sin, and yet look down their noses at her? Hadn't they read the book they held so dear? "He who hath not sinned shall cast the first stone." None of these people could claim, yet they all threw metaphorical stones daily. It was times when she thought on this that she wanted to rip the scarlet symbol off her breast and yell to them all of their wrong-doings. Shove everyone into the light and onto the platform as she had been. To sneer at them all.

It was times like these when she locked herself away in her home and cursed the day she had set foot in the new world.

**A/N: This chapter was really hard to write, and I think it shows. Meh, I still kind of like it though, I guess. Hope you all did! In the next chapter you guys get to find out who the daughter is. Any guesses?**

**Thank you to my one Guest reviewer whoever you are! (I'm really glad you think that about my story and I hope it continues to live up to that! )**

**A huge thank you to everyone still reading, and it would be awesome if you could please review!**


End file.
